


May 29th, Alabama

by Julesin



Series: Runaways, or That Feel When Multiverse Theory is Confirmed Canon [2]
Category: Everyman HYBRID, Marble Hornets, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Confusing Visual Metaphors, Damien Shut Up, Deep Discussions of Multiverse Theory and How the Universe Works, Gen, I'm so sorry on behalf of them, Relapses, Smoking, they're the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julesin/pseuds/Julesin
Summary: Once again, he was alone.





	May 29th, Alabama

Tim sighed, setting fifteen dollars down on the counter in front of the young cashier. The kid took it, counting out what he'd laid, but Tim suddenly stopped them. 

"Wait..." He took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this? He let it out. "And a pack of cigs."

The kid grabbed a box of the instructed brand, setting it with the other items on the counter, which were some simple snack items and a pack of water bottles. An uncomfortable feeling rolled in Tim's gut as he fished out another couple of bucks for the cigarettes, something he recognized as guilt. No going back now, he supposed. 

The cashier bagged his items, thanked him for coming with a bored tone, and turned back to their phone as he headed out into the cool night air. 

It was about nine in the evening, and the sun was just going down. The last of the golden streaks curved over the buildings around him, bathing everything in dim-yet-beautiful light, thought it did little to better his mood. 

Tim pulled out a single cigarette, fishing in his pockets for a lighter. He'd stopped using it a long time ago, but never stopped carrying it, both as a reminder and because old habits die hard. It was doing little now to dissuade him, however, as he lit the cigarette and inhaled nicotine smoke for the first time in at least six months. 

It hurt, breaking his streak, but it hurt even more breaking his promise. Their current situation didn't exactly give him an excuse, but the urge had come in full force when the final members of their group had showed up. He took another drag, letting the smoke curl from his lips, and let his mind wander as his feet did the same back towards the hotel. 

Jay had been so happy to see him, had hugged him and refused to let go for several minutes. He'd whispered about how scared he'd been for him, how proud he'd been to see Tim persist even after their shades had disappeared, and had even murmured a response to Tim's confession in the graveyard, a quiet, "I love you, too," that had made Tim's pulse quick and his breath short. 

Evan and Vincent had had a tearful reunion with Noah upon their arrival, hinting at a deep connection between their stories. They hadn't yet all sat down to share those stories, though Tim had a feeling that would happen soon--they'd arrived almost two days ago, and though Evan, Vincent, and Noah knew almost all of the shit they'd been through ('they' being him and the rest of the Marble Hornets 'characters'), the three didn't necessarily know everything, including what happened after Tim had stopped filming. 

He took another drag of the cigarette, then threw it to the ground half-finished and crushed it. It just...didn't feel right. It wasn't doing anything. He could feel the nicotine flooding his system, but it was just mildly comforting, not fulfilling like it'd been in the past. Getting that pack had been a mistake. 

His thoughts were broken by the sound of hurried footsteps behind him, and he whipped around just as the person running up called out, "Tim!" He flinched backwards as they skidded to a stop, doubling over to pant. "Whew, overshot the projection. Sorry about that!" The person finally stood up straight, and Tim's eyes widened. 

"Damien?" The person who'd stopped him outside the graveyard just weeks earlier, back in his world, and helped him communicate with his dead friends, stood in front of him now, grin stretching ear to ear. 

"Yup! Long time no see. I'm surprised you remember me." They scratched the back of their head, fingernails catching on the shaved strands. Their eyes were just as deep-set and tired as when he'd first seen them, and the metallic prosthetic of their left arm glinted in the dim light. 

"Of course, we only met a few weeks ago." 

Damien's brow furrowed, confusion evident, and they opened their mouth, then closed it again slowly. Then realization. "Right! Time is weird between worlds." At Tim's questioning look, they explained, "For me it's been almost two months since we spoke. But that doesn't matter right now, there's other things to talk about. Shall we?" They gestured the way Tim was walking with their flesh hand. "By the way," they added as he nodded. "You may want to be discreet about talking to me, since that guy," they jabbed a thumb across the street, "thinks you're talking to thin air."

Tim blinked a couple of times, glanced at the guy they'd pointed at, then shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Damien chuckled, then waved their hand ahead. The two set off at a quick pace, back towards the hotel. 

"So, how are you here?"

Damien glanced at him uneasily. "Look, Tim...there's more to this than you know. A lot more. There's a lot in play here you don't understand, and I may say things that don't make sense. Please trust me when I say that if I keep anything from you, it's for your own good. Okay?"

Tim felt a pit in his stomach, telling him that this was something he wasn't mentally prepared for, but nodded nonetheless. 

Damien took a deep breath. "This is just a projection. I'm not actually here. I mean, you can see me, and hear me, and even touch me to some extent," they explained, patting his shoulder with a very physical-feeling hand, "but it's not me. I'm actually in my apartment, back in my world."

"What is the deal, there? What is this world?"

"Ever heard of multiverse theory?"

Tim nodded. 

"So basically," they explained. "This is a world very much like your own, except everything that happened to you, never actually occurred. The 'Slenderman,' or the 'Operator,' or whatever you want to call him, still exists in this world, but you don't exist as a person. Marble Hornets is a fictional online series created by several actors, who have never actually been tormented by him."

"Yeah, we figured that out a long time ago. But how are _we_ here?"

"That's more complicated. Imagine that this," they held up their metal left hand, "is your world, and this one," they held up their right, "is this new one. Basically, what's happening is that your world is passing this one," they set their left hand over their right, "creating a shadow. You are all being passed down through the shadow," they spread the fingers of their left hand, "through holes in your world created by other dimensional tearing."

Tim rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay, but why us? And why are the holes there?"

"Well, second question first: Imagine I have another hand. This is before my main hands have crossed, but at some point, my third hand passed so close to my left that it scraped off layers of 'skin', enough that the dimensional fabric was extremely thin in certain places. These holes could be burned through by certain people who had been 'marked'." They dropped their hands as the two walked into the parking lot of the hotel. "And you were all marked. The Operator is a much powerful being than you know, and is not actually from your world. He's not from any known world. None of the creatures you've all dealt with are."

"If this dimensional fabric kept us in our world, how did we pass through the fabric of this world?"

They stopped near the entrance to the hotel to continue talking, and Damien folded their arms. "This world has been tormented by entities like the Operator for a long time, and when these entities enter a world, they weaken the dimensional fabric. Of course," they ground out, looking to the side with almost anger, "That means a lot of stuff can get in. And I don't mean just you five. I mean more...bad stuff."

Tim rubbed his eyes and mumbled, "I'm so confused."

"Don't worry, that's not surprising. It's a lot to take in. What matters now is less _why_ you're all here, but more what you _do_ now that you are. And I need you to listen to me now."

Tim put his hands in his pockets, focusing as best he could despite feeling slightly patronized. He tried to remember that they knew more than he did. 

"You need to go west. This area isn't safe, places where he's been tend to mirror between passing worlds, which means he's more likely to show up here. Here, New Jersey, Florida, none of these places are safe. The whole east coast could be dangerous, for all we know, which is why I need you to go west. Head for California, it's your safest bet and also somewhere where I can get through better, meaning I might even be able to be here, physically be here in this world, for longer periods of time. As it stands, I only have a few minutes left before this projection runs out."

Tim nodded, realizing that he could actually see this happening, could see their image fraying at the edges like a worn carpet. "Head for Cali, got it."

"Also," they added, talking faster now. "Along the way you may be able to meet up with others, others who have dealt with this shit as well. I'll let you know if any come up, like Michael or Stan."

"Who-?"

"Not important. Right now you just need to go."

Tim took his hands out of his pockets hurriedly. "Wait, before this ends, I have a question: why can't you tell everybody this in person?"

Their face darkened. "Because if I get anywhere near Evan, Vincent, or Noah, bad things could happen to them. You're all fine to be around them, because you're actually here, but even my projection could cause serious repercussions." They looked away, skin becoming translucent. "I could cause a relapse in Evan and Vincent, I could break Noah's fragile safety from the Collective..." They narrowed their eyes painfully. "I could even bring Habit back. Just...don't get me near them. You'll understand all of this later."

Tim nodded, relaxing, but they weren't quite done yet. 

"Wait. Tim..." They held out their hand, expression unreadable. "Give them to me."

His heart skipped and dropped into his stomach. He swallowed with some difficulty. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Damien sighed. "In your back pocket. Give them to me. I know you feel like you have to, but I can't let you relapse like this. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to them." They gestured up at the hotel.

He swallowed again, then closed his eyes in resignation, pulling the box of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He placed them carefully in Damien's hand, and they smiled sadly. 

"I get it. I really do. But you have to stay strong. For their benefit at least, if not your own. Now, I have to go." The image was really fading now, he could barely even make out their face. "California, remember! And stay safe!"

And, once again, he was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Please welcome Damien to the stage  
> I won't go too much into their character, but try to keep in mind the Unreliable Narrator trope  
> Not everything they say is necessarily accurate  
> Also a lot of the shit about the universes and stuff is utter bullshit I made it up  
> I'm not a scientist  
> If the visual metaphor with their hands is really confusing don't worry it's not just you  
> It is confusing  
> If there is a better way to write that please let me know, I'm not a fantastic descriptive writer  
> Next part is the first porn of this fic woohoo!!!


End file.
